


He Knows

by TheBakerStWriter



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: I can't say more without spoiling, M/M, there's a twist at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:34:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28756701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBakerStWriter/pseuds/TheBakerStWriter
Summary: An Excerpt:"Life was continuing without John."
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes & John Watson, Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 42





	He Knows

He was late.

He didn’t make it in time.

He came too late.

John’s knees collided with the ground resulting in the splashing of the red puddle of blood. His fists were clenched, his fingernails digging deep within his palms. His jaw agape as he stared in front of him where Sherlock lay.

_Please, god, no._

John’s eyes were glassy as he dove into action, turning Sherlock over, running his hands through him in a thorough examination, not liking one bit what he was seeing and feeling.

_They will be here soon. Lestrade’s just a few streets away._

“I….” Sherlock began with great difficulty, choking on his blood as John tried to stop his massive bleeding with his jacket, and just as he regained his breath, it was taken away.

“Sherlock!” John shouted as his arms fled from the detective’s thigh onto his chest. Chest compressions. The once beating heart now completely silent in its gilded cage. “You what?!”

_Come on._

“Please! Sherlock!” John fell numb to his medical training, his eyes stinging with tears, not caring whether he cracks a rib or two as long he’s going.

_No._

_Can’t be._

_Mustn’t be._

_Please._

“Wake up!” His shout was a loud command only to be met with the rain’s pouring sounds, washing away sherlock’s blood. Only the blood was too much. The puddle was large, seeping through John’s trousers.

Minutes passed. Rain poured. Stars sparkled.

London’s streets were busy as per usual.

Life was continuing without John.

_Too late._

_I came too late._

John’s movements died down as he realized that there was nothing more to do.

He didn’t get to hear sherlock’s last words.

_I have things to say. So many things. They went untold._

He held sherlock tight against him, his chin against the wet curls. The rain cried with him as it poured harder. His sounds muffled by it.

“Noo!” John’s voice carried on for kilometers through rain and snow, forest and desert. His voice was completely broken as he sobbed harder, hugging his friend’s body before all the warmth faded away.

_I should have told him sooner._

“Please,” he said in a whisper, “for me, wake up, just one more time.”

He was met with defining silence.

His forehead against Sherlock’s forehead, as he slowly leaned downwards to place a gentle kiss on Sherlock’s lips.

But nothing happened. There was no response.

His throat was tight as he spoke. “I love you.”

He woke to the silence. It was defining.

But it was also a relief to know that it was all just another nightmare.

His heart was beating fast as he sat up from his bed, scrambling for his gown as he went downstairs in search of his flatmate.

The raven was perched on his armchair fast asleep.

_He’s still alive._

John went to retrieve the detective’s quilt draping it over the sleeping figure.

He looked peacefully asleep, he looked younger than John ever saw.

The nightmare had left him shaken up, and so he spoke in a whisper.

“I love you.”

Sherlock’s head stirred, John was caught in alarm. “I know.”


End file.
